Desires
by Argyle.S
Summary: Hermione can't stop thinking about what her roommates are doing. Multiple Pairings


Pairing: Hermione Solo, Parvati/Lavender, Fantasies involving Hermione/Parvati, Hermione/Lavender, Hermione/Parvati/Lavender, Hermione/Ginny, Hermione/Ron, Hermione/Harry, Ron/Harry, Harry/Ginny, Hermione/Ginny/Harry and Hermione/Ron/Harry

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter and all associated characters, places, spells etc. belong to J. K. Rowling. I am just borrowing them for a use I'm rather sure she wouldn't approve of. No money is being made.

Warnings: Masturbation, Voyeurism.

Summary: Hermione can't stop thinking about what her roommates are doing.

* * *

Sometimes I wonder if they think I don't hear them, or if they think I don't care. I suspect that latter. After all, it isn't quite real to them, so why would it even occur to them that anyone else would thinks it's serious.

I know better of course. I know Parvati broke up with Zacharias Smith. I've seen the slightly pained look she gets when Lavender talks about a boy. I've seen the way Parvati glares daggers at one boy in particular.

It's not real to them. Not yet. Maybe it never will be. Maybe, when this year is over and we're all finished with Hogwarts, they will go their separate ways, and in their minds, it will always be just 'practice'. Maybe the soft purrs Parvati makes when Lavender's mouth closes over her nipples and the breathy way Lavender begs for another finger will be forgotten. Maybe the longing I see in Parvati's eyes every time Lavender is out of the room will be written off as friendship. Maybe the fact that Parvati's bed hasn't been used in months will be written off as a youthful indiscretion.

Some nights, as I listen to the whimpers and moans and the wet sounds of their mouths on each other a small, spiteful little part of me hopes so. Some nights, as I watch the silhouette of Lavender riding Parvati's thigh while she pumps her fingers into Parvati and Parvati sucks on her breasts, I hate them. I hate that after more than six years as roommates, they've found another way to leave me out. Another way to remind me that I'm not good enough for them.

Some nights I charm the hangings on my bed to shut out the noise so I can sleep.

Some nights, I charm the hangings on Lavender's bed so I can get a better look.

And some nights, like tonight, I slip out of my night dress and I wait for them. I'm wet long before it starts. I tease myself. I run my hands over my body. I cup my breasts and squeeze the nipples. I spread my legs and caress my inner thighs. I let my mind wander to all the places it shouldn't.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be one of them. I wonder what it would feel like to have Parvati's thigh pressed between my legs while she sucked on my breasts. I wonder how strong and flexible all that gossip has made Lavender's tongue and how it would feel inside me. Sometimes, I even wonder what it would be like to be with both of them. To crawl into their bed one night. To have Parvati's face between my legs and her fingers inside me while I taste Lavender.

Those thoughts usually don't last. It's hard not to think about someone in a sexual context when you hear them or see them making love every night, but I'm just not really attracted to either of them.

Ginny, on the other hand is a different story. She's my friend, she's beautiful, in a tomboyish sort of way, and even before ditzy and ditzier started on each other, I use to think about Ginny.

When I touch my own breasts, I almost always think of hers. Would they feel the same in my hands? Would she make the same little whimper in the back of her throat that I do when I pinch my nipples?

It's worse because I actually get to see them sometimes. I do my best not to stare at the puffy nipples and the freckles. I try not to wonder what they would look like covered in a sheen of sweat and hard as a rock.

I try not to imagine them bouncing as she rides Harry. I try not to imagine straddling Harry's face and slipping a hand down to stroke Ginny's clit while she rides him. Try not to imagine the feel of her tongue in my mouth. Try not to imagine her climbing off him and letting me have a turn for awhile.

I'm not very successful.

I can tell myself I shouldn't do it all I want, but it doesn't stop me from slipping two fingers inside myself and imagining it's Harry. It doesn't stop me imagining the fingers on my clit belong to Ginny.

Most of the time though, I don't think of Ginny at all. Most of the time, I think of Ron, and I wonder if that's worse. I wonder how he would feel if he knew just how wet and desperate I got laying up in my dorm room listing to Lavender moan and imagining it was Harry moaning while Ron went down on him. I wonder if he'd like to know that sometimes, I get up on one hand and my knees and use my other hand to finger myself while I imagine him taking me from behind.

Sometimes I think of telling him about it. I imagine whispering it to him in the common room. I imagine waiting until no one's looking and ducking below the table. I suck on my fingers and I pretend I'm sucking him off in a room full of people.

Tonight though, I want something more. Tonight, I want the ultimate forbidden fruit. The one that's dangerous. The one that makes me afraid of just how badly I could mess everything up.

I wave my wand and mutter a quick spell to make sure I'm clean, then I reach over and take a small bottle of potion from my night stand. It's think and warm as I pour it over my fingers and I make sure I've got a good thick coat. I roll up on my side and lift my leg to give myself better access. The hand covered in the lubricating potion goes behind my back. I lick my lips as I stroke and caress my arse. I take a deep breath and think of wild black hair and emerald green eyes and as I push my finger inside my arse, I imagine lowering myself onto Harry and laying back on his chest with him in my arse.

I slip my own hand down. I imagine red hair and freckles. Ron. And when I push two fingers inside, its Ron I imagine filling me.

My boys. Both of my boys. Taking me, sharing me, filling me.

I find the rhythm quickly. I've had more practice with this that I like to think about.

It doesn't take long. It never does. Not with my own desire already so high and with the sounds from Lavender's bed in my ears and the picture of both of them thrusting into me in my head.

I come hard with my face buried in the pillow and the pillow case gripped between my teeth.

When it's done, I just lay still for a while.

After all, it's Friday night. Lavender and Parvati are on their first go.

And so am I.


End file.
